


The Crostini Champagne Tango

by peachandbetty



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alcohol, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 20:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13442592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachandbetty/pseuds/peachandbetty
Summary: Where Relena is short, Heero can't drink and a pair of stilettos are potential terrorists.





	The Crostini Champagne Tango

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often comedy and I don't often not smut, but here's my attempt at both.

Relena calculated that she spent approximately 16 hours a day in the company of people. Of those sixteen hours, at least fifteen were in the company of people she did not particularly know or even like.

So when she acquired herself a new bodyguard of the younger and less married variety a few months back, she found to her pleasure that an increasing amount of those hours seemed to shorten significantly with his constant presence at her side.

Heero was, for the awkwardness of his youth, actually very pleasant company. Where he was once rather stoic on matters that weren’t of the strictly serious nature, his older counterpart with all the literal weight of the world now off his shoulders seemed quite content to engage with her throughout their day. Indeed, he even seemed to seek it.

“I have two issues with those things on your feet.”

Especially when he knew it would rile her up.

“I’m sure you do. Go ahead, agent Yuy. What is your assessment of my attire?”

And that was fine with her. She found that she actually rather enjoyed the banter between them. At first she’d been quite taken aback at the blunt way he approached their interactions, but then she realised that Heero had always been like that. The only difference now was that his glib style of conversation now extrapolated to his more everyday interactions and that, with time, she had come to recognise it as his own brand of humour. Heero would never be the laugh out loud type of person.

“Six inches. You’re short, Relena. Deal with it.”

Relena felt herself bristle at his jibe. It was almost embarrassing the way he seemed to read her insecurities like an open, rather thick book. The Peacecraft gene her brother seemed to have been blessed with had apparently skipped her over and in a world of powerful people with imposing presences on a stage where one had to compete to be heard, she was at an uncomfortable disadvantage. And the way the male species tended to linger their gazes on the long, graceful pins of the Sally Pos and Lady Unes of the world was outright discouraging.

“I thought you said I wasn’t short. I was ‘petite’.”

Heero held out his hand, and she rolled her eyes as she relinquished to him her lovey golden stiletto.

“I actually said you were ‘travel friendly’. I could fit you in a suitcase if it were ever necessary. Second issue. You could trip and fall and snap your neck before a bullet even gets its chance. If, of course, you don’t stab my feet to death dancing and I kill you first.”

Really, death threats at this point were a mere formality. It may even be an endearment.

She snatched her shoe back away from him and re-heeled herself, fixing him with a look of what she hoped was exasperation. She’d gone through painstaking lengths to make herself look absolutely regal tonight for the ESUN Christmas ball and he was being entirely uncooperative. From what she could gather, the security at this event was second to none. Not so much as an insect would get in without an invitation and proper dinner suit. Running in stilettos was not looking likely.

“Well it’s too late now, anyway, we’re here. Deal with it.” She flashed him a quick smug smile before the car door to her side opened to reveal the bright flashes and loud catcalls of the Christmas paparazzi. Making sure her dress stayed modest over her thighs she allowed the footman to pull her out of the sleek black sports car Heero seemed to cherish like his first born child.

She felt his presence by her side just a few second later and she linked his arm through hers. Tonight, rough edges and blunt verbal destruction of her new favourite shoes aside, this man was her date. He was tall, dark and handsome and she was the envy of every long-legged amazon everywhere.  
_________________________  
Despite the vibrant atmosphere and general tone of merriment in the grand spectacle of ballroom, Heero Yuy was far from relaxed. With every passing tuxedo, he saw a hidden knife; with every slim fluted champagne glass he saw poison. While his charge liked to pick at him as paranoid, something he felt was sometimes justified, today was no ordinary day.

Today was Christmas Eve, and his experience of Christmas Eve had left him with the unshakeable feeling that something could, and will, go wrong at any minute. He didn’t like feeling this way. It reminded him far too uncomfortably of his youth. It reminded him of the novel pang of panic he’d felt when her disappearance at the hand of the Barton Foundation had been made known to him.

It reminded him of the bullet he hadn’t even known about until just three months ago. The bullet he wasn’t there to stop.

She’d played it down like it was a trifle, a small mishap that just was, but the file he’d pulled out of sealed secrecy had made him painfully aware of how close he’d come to losing her completely. She meant a lot to him, for all his prior belief that such attachments were beyond him. She was his most precious friend, his first really, and she was two millimetres and three minutes short of slipping away from him unnoticed.

She hid the scar well. The fashion of the year seemed to be bare-backed dresses. He had discovered that, despite her unique character, Relena was a girlish girl at heart and actually placed a lot of value in fashion, something she had told him gave her as much as an escape from more serious things as books and mechanical projects did for him. So, she compromised with a light golden dress that seemed to be made of liquid as it melted over her form and pooled at her feet, the slender pale skin of her back exposed enticingly to those who would look. And a delicate, thin silken scarf draped innocently over her shoulders and over the puckered scar that reminded him why he was here.

“Like what you see?”

The warm tingle of her breath on his ear took him by surprise and he nearly cursed for his distraction. Even more so for being caught looking in a way that could be misinterpreted as something inappropriate.

“Those shoes still exist so no.”

Then again, if he was honest with himself, he did like what he saw. She was attractive. She wasn’t what he would interpret as his type as such, in fact she was quite removed from it, but something about her in general attracted him. Perhaps it was because she was his friend and had no other expectations from him. He could see her through the eyes of someone not blinded by the carnal end goal. It was refreshing.

“Get over it. We have two more hours left, and I have a job for you.”

She held out an empty flute of champagne to him and gesture for him to take it, and it was then he noticed the slight pink tinge to her cheeks and a glassy quality to her gaze. Great.

“Slow down. Two hours is a long time to someone with no sense of balance dancing on six inch pins.”

She fixed him with her most haughty stare (as haughty as one could get when their face doesn’t want to cooperate entirely) and nodded over to the bar.

“I need you to water this stuff down, actually. I can’t be without a drink. If I’m not drinking, I’m expected to be talking. I can’t talk for another two hours. So. Each time the server fills up my glass, I need you on hand to swap it with something lighter.”

It was Heero’s time to throw the looks now. She’d suggested the idea like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, as though the purpose of his presence here wasn’t to ensure her safety but to slowly destroy her liver.

“Just drink water. You’ll probably thank me for it tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t drink water,” she said the word with such a look of disdain on her face that he thought it had personally offended her, “there’ll be questions. Why doesn’t Minister Darlian drink? Is she an alcoholic? Is she already drunk? How can we use this to our advantage? I need to be on the same playing field as everyone else in this room, Heero, and to do that I need to be tipsy, drinking and out of the limelight.”

He didn’t get it, for all of her long-winded attempt at explanation. He’d have to ask for clarification when she was more cognitive, but he’d comply, if for no other reason than a watered down drink was better than a whole one.

“Fine. I’ll get this. Try to stand still in the meantime. Watching you on those things is making me nervous.”

He heard her light giggle as he moved away from her and towards the bar and he let out a long breath. She was tipsy alright.

The bar was blessedly quite empty. The majority of the ballroom seemed to be taking their drinks liberally from the passing wait staff and didn’t care much what was in the glasses so long as there was something wet in a pretty snowflaked glass. At least this way Heero could monitor what his charge consumed. She had a habit of drinking nasty things at Christmas and he had no desire this year to go blowing up presidential mansions.

The barman took his order in a way that said he’d spent far too long pandering to the rich elite (being on the receiving end of that was something Heero was still trying to get used to), and when he was handed Relena’s cheat drink he walked back towards the herd of chattering clusters taking up the dance floor.

Nobody ever seems to dance at these things. It was something he was secretly grateful for. Dangerous, knife-like heels aside, dancing with Relena in a world like this brought back memories of wayward teenage hormones he still felt quite embarrassed about. She was the first girl his own age he’d actually interacted with, and it was natural that this would manifest itself physically at the most inopportune times and emotionally in ways that his adolescent mind couldn’t quite stabilize. But that was a good few years ago and thinking back on the awkwardness of that phase of his life was…repellent.

He found her standing with a look of what had to be feigned interest amongst a gaggle of faces he only fleetingly recognised. This breed of entitled elites seemed to all look alike after a while, the same old faces blended into to each other. She noticed him and her eyes gestured down towards her near-empty glass and he batted back an amused smirk.

Are you sure you want this?

She seemed to read his silent message loud and clear as her eyes narrowed at him. He was, however, feeling merciful that evening and the less she was asked to give an opinion or arbitrate for these remaining two hours, the more likely they’d be able to escape the ballroom in good time.

He gracefully bent himself around the clusters of richly garbed guests and came up behind her, smoothly taking her empty glass, replacing it with the new and fading back into the crowd. She sent him a brief but grateful smile from over her shoulder and he waved the empty glass at her in response.

Do you want another?

He saw her right hand form a thumbs up from its place by her side, inconspicuous, and he nodded his response.

It was strange, on reflection, how quickly they had built up this strange form of silent communication to such an art form. They seemed to understand what the other was thinking or trying to communicate without really trying and it made his job a lot easier. He’d put it down to their unconventional history and left it at that, preferring not to overanalyse it and just accept it for what it is. But every now and then he was reminded that it was this strange connection that made her such an invaluable part of his life; she knew, always knew, and she didn’t have to ask. It was effortless and it just was.

“Back for more, Sir? Might I recommend a non-alcoholic wine?”

Heero handed over the empty glass and shook his head. “No, watered champagne, please. I’m on orders.”

The barman smiled. “The wife, I assume? I might, then, recommend that you help yourself to the hors d’ourves. An empty stomach at a Christmas party does not a fun morning make.”

Heero gave the man a small nod, thanking him for his suggestion, and glanced over at the serving entrance where several wait staff stood with trays of miniature snacks abound. They all looked rather lost, their guests quick to pick up a glass but seemingly bypassing the food altogether. The barman was right; these people would suffer in the morning, and at least he could mitigate that somewhat for Relena, as much as she deserved it.

Picking handful of crostinis from the nearest tray, startling a poor young server who had apparently been staring into nothing, he danced his way back through the crowd towards her.

He caught her questioning expression as he approached with bites in one hand, champagne in the other and he tilted his head over in the direction of the fire door, where an unfortunate and unsightly group were gripping onto the walls and bent over trying to keep the room still. She seemed to get the message, and he again approached behind her, replaced her glass and placed a small bite into her open mouth. The others in the group didn’t seem to notice the odd gesture (he suspected at this point most of them wouldn’t notice if a bomb went off ten feet away), and he presented her with another.

The tinge of pink on her face seemed to deepen with each bite and he only then became slightly conscious of what they were doing. To anybody who would pay them attention, the gesture was far more intimate than one would expect between a bodyguard and his employer, especially in a public place. It had seemed natural, and Heero found it odd that it only failed to remain so when under the scrutiny of others.

“Ah, Minister, I believe a young man is aching to dance with you. He’s been hovering around you on and off for the last half hour.”

Shit. Apparently not everyone was as inebriated as he’d thought.

“I can see that. Perhaps I shall put him out of his misery. Merry Christmas, gentlemen. I’ll see you in the new year.”

And with that, a soft cool hand wrapped around his own and pulled him back through the crowded sea and towards what he could assume was the potential demolition of his feet by stiletto.  
_____________________________

“Those crostinis were magical. Where were they hiding all night?” They were really just tomatoes and red onion on small pieces of round toast by any other description but on this night and with her stomach, somehow they were just better.

She pulled him out of the balcony door and into the frigid night air, pulling her scarf from around her neck and winding it around a few more times. Brussels wasn’t the coldest place to spend Christmas but it cut too damned close for her liking.

“Your colleagues seemed more enthused with the wine than anything else. It made them rather redundant.”

Heero’s voice betrayed a trace of fatigue and she realised that it was long gone midnight. She made a note to apologise to him later; she hadn’t intended to stay out this long and she knew that Christmas was a touchy time for him where she was concerned.

“Thank you. You do look out for me. Why don’t you have a drink?”

His sardonic look was ruined by the dusty blush that adorned the tips of his ears; Heero didn’t accept praise well, especially from her, but sometimes she’d do it just to see that pretty shade of pink. It was adorable in a way that could only befit him. “Someone has to drive you home.”

“One glass surely won’t impede the mobility skills of a legendary Gundam pilot?” Ah, the pink was spreading. Sometimes she enjoyed being drunk, if only to get away with stuff like this.

“Drinking does things to me. Don’t ask. Don’t try.”

His regression back to short and curt answers told her he was backing into a defensive and she decided to let up a little. The open and easy bond she had with her bodyguard was something she could have never anticipated but cherished and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Fine. But one of these days you’ll tell me what you did that in your eyes has demonised alcohol so. I find it quite freeing,” she sighed, leaning on the railing. The night was so very cold but somehow, she was still warm.

“I’ll tell you if you promise to wear Kevlar tomorrow.”

The warm bubble around her dissipated a little. Oh. That. He’d been trying on and off, unsuccessfully, for the last month to get a vest on her for her Christmas Day speech tomorrow. All the major representatives joined the President on the day in a series of speeches celebrating the success of their field and the ESUN itself. People liked being reminded that, on this day especially, all was well. Peace on earth and good will and all. Heero was usually very fair with the precautions he took, making things as unintrusive as possible, but for reasons she as all too aware of Christmas seemed to throw that fairness to the wind. She found it sweet in a way.

She pushed herself back off the rail and straightened up to him. He stood over her now, at least a head and a half, and his solid form betrayed the nature of his highly demanding work. He was intimidating, really, if only on the surface but even as a teenager she had never really felt that at all. Behind his impassive face and dark brooding eyes there was a man that joked, teased and made her wear Kevlar. It was a handsome face, and she had grown so fond of it.

“Such a pretty face,” she raised on her tip toes, despite the height her shoes gave her, and wound her arms around his neck. Oh, that blush was on his cheeks now. How rare.

“So….kevlar…?”

She smiled at the slight waver in his voice, deciding to make that pink a permanent feature on his face and for good measure, she pressed her lips to the side of his face with an exaggerated smack.

“Yes, I’ll wear the Kevlar. Now tell me about the booze. I even gave you my first kiss; it’s a fair trade.”

“First…” she was right about the permanent pink and it was very becoming as his hand absently went up to where the remainder of her gloss had rubbed off on him. “Alright. I thought you wanted to dance?”

Oh, that’s a good point. “You’re right. You can talk and dance at the same time, I recall.” He was a terrible dancer, truly, so talking couldn’t make it much worse.

The warmth came back full force as Heero’s hands slid up her arms to where they were still connected around his neck and pulled her hands into position for a waltz. It was a tango playing, but she could forgive him.

The heat from him seemed to surround her as he guided them into an unorganised three-beat and somehow, he seemed like the best dance partner she could ask for drunk on a balcony.

This is nice, she thought, the heaviness of accumulated champagne enticing her head onto his shoulder like a hard vertical pillow.

“It was after the war. Duo bought champagne. Apparently, it was bad form to win a war and not drink afterwards, or so he convinced me at the time.” This was it, his story. She loved his stories and she allowed her head to rest on him as their rhythm smoothed out into a simple sway, allowing her to concentrate on the rumble of this voice through his chest.

“Duo’s good at getting what he wants out of people and relinquishing all responsibility for it. It was my first. It was everyone’s first, apparently, apart from his. So while the rest of us were trying to come to terms with the complete and sudden lack of any control over our faculties, he was sitting there grinning like an idiot enjoying the show.”

Relena muffled a soft chuckle into his chest. She could picture it in her head so clearly and was a little sad that she wasn’t there to witness it.

“Paradoxically, the worse we got, the more we drank, because the more we drank the more it seemed like a good idea. A lot happened…but long story short, clothes came off, secrets came out, Wufei got offended, a couple of limbs got broken and one of us came dangerously close to opening the airlock. All I know is that I woke up with a bite on my neck and my gun in the microwave.”

The image that had formed in her mind with his storytelling would make her happy for many years to come, and a bubble of laughter rose in her but deflated when she realised just how exhausted she was. The combination of warmth, being held up by his solid embrace, happiness and the fuzziness of bubbles left her feeling like she was almost floating and if she didn’t break away soon she would fall asleep on the poor guy.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Though I will spend the rest of my life trying to find out who bit you. You may take me home now, agent Yuy, for I am totalled.”

And with that, the swaying stopped and as her breathing evened out against her favourite cushion, her last conscious thought was pink.

________________________________________________________

“For future reference, you have my permission for forcibly remove me if I ever try to touch another glass of champagne again. Shoot me if necessary. It’d be less painful.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Heero handed her another glass of water, oddly reminiscent of his duties the night prior that had gotten him into nursing her in the first place. He figured the crostinis had come too little, too late.

“That stuff is evil. It gave me all sorts of dreams last night, once my bed stopped wobbling of course.”

She wanted sympathy, he knew. She would get none.

“I’m honestly surprised your mind could piece together a dream with the state you were in. You’re right. I should shoot you next time.”

She threw him an acid glare but a grimace quickly replaced it when she realised the light wasn’t her friend at that moment. Heero softened a little at the sight; she would get no sympathy but he could at least try and make it a little easier on her. It was her first time with a hangover after all.

I even gave you my first kiss; it’s a fair trade.

Heero handed her a small plate of toast as her words echoed through his head. It hadn’t seemed real at the time, as if that moment on the balcony was all part of her hazy alcoholic dream world and he was caught up in it. But now he was here and the ghost of those words seemed more real than at their birth. He’d been given her first kiss. He hadn’t asked for it, and he hadn’t particularly wanted it but once he’d received it he found himself oddly proud. That sloppy, chaste smack on his cheek from any woman was unlikely to inspire anything more than a wipe of his hand and yet, he’d thought back on it time and again with fondness.

“I’m going to get some more sleep. See if my dream comes back to me.”

“Alright. I’ll be downstairs.”

He watched her throw her duvet back over herself and tuck the corner under her chin and he couldn’t help a smile. She wasn’t his type. She was soft, short and slight, not at all the exciting athletic lovers he was usually drawn to but she was certainly beautiful for all her headstrong quirks and penchant for making trouble for him. And he thought, then, that maybe a kiss was simply just that; a kiss from a beautiful woman.

Her soft breathing evened out telling him she was asleep, and as he left her room shutting the door behind him, his own conclusion rang hollow through his mind.


End file.
